Of Love and Quidditch
by Amadea
Summary: Involves tromping through mud, thoughts of Madam Pomfrey, arguments, and repressed fuzzy feelings. OWKB
1. Of Weather and Certain Doom

**Disclaimer: **Right. I so don't own Harry Potter or any of J.K. Rowling's characters. But thanks for thinking I might be brilliant enough to.

**A/N:** Here it is! It's been gnawing at my mind until I did something about it. I think reviews are awesome. Therefore if you review, you are also awesome. –Virtual cookies- I am completely open and welcoming of constructive criticism, but flames not so much. (Flames not at all, actually.) Hope you enjoy the first chapter!

**Of Love and Quidditch**

_Chapter One: Of Weather and Certain Doom_

The pitch was soaking and the mud caught fast to Oliver's shoes, making them heavier with each step until they were almost as heavy as his spirits.

It had been a bad day. He'd been late to breakfast and ate so fast he almost couldn't keep it down, had an argument with one of his Chasers, and then almost single-handedly lost the Quidditch match. Yes, it had been a bad day.

So what was a little rain? Nothing, aside from the fact that he'd probably catch pneumonia and die, with only Madam Pomfrey by his side.

Maybe he _should _go in. Why was he walking laps around the Quidditch field, anyway? Did he _really _think it was going to work out all his major frustrations?

He glanced up and saw a person with a black umbrella making their way toward him.

"Oliver _Wood_," they shouted, "Get your pale Scottish bum over here _right now!_"

_Ah, Katie,_ he thought, but didn't say anything, choosing instead to slope toward her in silence. When he got close enough to see her face, he could see – quite clearly – she was angry.

"What do you think you're doing?" she shrilled in his ear. "Sulking about in the rain-"

"I was –"

"– like a bloody idiot – "

"- thinking, thank you very – "

"- I swear, you're going to get pneumonia – "

"- much."

"- and because I bothered to trek all the way out here to fetch you, I'll catch it too, and you'll just bring me down with you, hacking and shivering all the while."

They glared at one another before Katie said grouchily, "Well, get under the umbrella, then. It's why I brought it."

"No, thank you. I can't get much wetter than this." Oliver started walking, staying just out of reach of the shelter of the umbrella. Katie kept trying to sneak it over his head, but he'd dodge away and continue on mulishly, slogging his way toward the castle.

- - - -

Once they were inside, dripping profusely in the hallway, Katie fiercely snapped the umbrella shut and shook the water off, making sure to aim it in Oliver's general direction. She pulled her wand from her robes and pointed it at her feet, muttering, "_Scourgify_" to clean off the mud before starting toward the Gryffindor common room without even a glance at Oliver.

"Thanks for coming out," he called after her, deciding a little appreciation might soothe her feelings, which would therefore make life in general a little better.

"Angelina made me," she threw over her shoulder without slowing down.

"Right, because you obviously just don't care enough," he called. She didn't reply, but he saw her shoulders stiffen as she stalked around the corner.

Oliver waited a few more moments before following her so he could avoid conversation with her all together.

"Fiddlepuss," he muttered when he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who gave him a dirty look before eyeing the thin but steady trail of mud he'd left behind.

"Argus will have a fit," she warned, but Oliver ignored her, climbing through the entrance.

"Oliver!" Fred exclaimed cheerily, looking up from the couch. "We were beginning to wonder if you'd gone and done yourself in."

George nodded in agreement. "And Katie was in a right ugly mood. Just huffed past us all to go up to the dorms. Quite snappish. Did you say something?"

"She's always snappish," Oliver said, a bit snappish himself.

"Not always. Just recently. Maybe it's because of that little tiff you two had this morning," Alicia suggested, looking up from a nearby table. "Have you apologized?"

Oliver shifted awkwardly.

"_Well?_"

"No," he grumbled, flopping onto the couch beside George.

"Because really, it was kind of your fault you two argued," Fred pointed out. Oliver sighed and rolled his head back on the couch.

"I know."

"And your game was seriously off today," George added. "No offense. But it's definitely been better."

"Thanks, George. Your game was off, too." Actually, George had been doing pretty well, aside from the Bludger he'd smacked in Oliver's direction. But come to think of it, that might have been intentional. Oliver _had_ been yelling orders quite frantically. "Maybe if I knock my head against the wall hard enough and fast enough I'll get amnesia and can pretend today never happened."

Fred's face lit up. "Ooh, you should try one of our Bubble Blissers! Makes you happy. Even though the taste's a bit off."

"So," Alicia interjected, "Are you apologizing tonight or tomorrow?"

"What is it with you trying to get me to apologize?" Oliver asked, exasperated.

"I'm thinking it will make practice tomorrow bearable for everyone else."

"Hear hear," Fred said. "With the both of you in moods, nothing will get done unless you say sorry."

Oliver heaved himself off the couch, realizing his robes were still quite wet and felt goose bumps rise on his arms. "All right, all right."

Alicia jumped up. "I'll go get her for you." She sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitory and Oliver stood at the bottom waiting.

He hoped fervently it would go well. _She's not the type of girl to throw things_, he reassured himself as what may or may not have been certain doom loomed above him at the top of the stairs.


	2. Of Distraction and Detention

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything aside from the characters and any magical inventions mentioned that you don't recognize.

**A/N:** Cookies all around! So much thanks to my lovely reviewers: NothingToulouse, Lia06, Shadow of dusk, cait whylie, the midnight's magic and siberiandiscoduck.

**Of Love and Quidditch**

_Chapter Two: Of Distraction and Detention_

Katie stood in front of Oliver, resisting the urge to fold her arms and spit. He was standing there, looking all pompous and self-righteous and kind of ridiculous because his hair and clothes were still dripping, but the least she could do was hear him out. Alicia said he had something _decent_ to say to her, anyway.

"Bell," he began, "I'm sorry."

And that was it? Katie folded her arms, but refrained from spitting.

"And… what? You want more? What more is there?"

"Tell her why you're sorry," Fred called from across the room.

Oliver lowered his voice so the others couldn't hear, even if they _were_ watching. "I'm sorry because I was wrong about you. You're exceedingly responsible and you handle yourself excellently and it was not my place to criticize your dedication to Quidditch. I apologize."

That was decent. Katie let her arms fall to her side. "Apology accepted. Thank you."

"You'll be at practice tomorrow, then?"

Katie put her chin in the air. "I'll always be at practice."

"Good."

Katie started to turn away but stopped, turning back. "And I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have called you a Quidditch obsessed dictator from hell with a broom up his arse."

"You said that?" He hadn't heard _that_ part. But it was kind of funny.

For a moment, Katie looked unsure of how she should answer. Then, "Yes. But that's what makes you good captain."

"Oh. Thank you." His face burned red and he felt foolish for it and his body was suddenly awkward and clumsy and he took a step back, bobbing his head. "Good night, then."

"Good night." Katie turned and disappeared up the stairway and Oliver let out a breath, running a hand through his hair.

"Good job," George called, then turned to Fred and winked. _What was that for? _Oliver wondered, but forgot about it soon after.

- - - -

The next morning at breakfast, Oliver found himself sitting next to a very chipper Angelina Johnson, who was extolling the virtues of the Appleby Arrows' Seeker. Fred was arguing congenially with her, saying that no, the Keeper was definitely the most exceptional player on that team and that they'd just have to go to a game together so he could prove it to her.

Oliver cut in, saying, "And at their last match, the Seeker was distracted and didn't catch the Snitch. They lost something hideous. Three-fifty to ninety or something close to that."

Angelina elbowed Oliver lightly. "Oh, just like you!"

Oliver felt his face go up in flames for the second time in the last two days and mumbled something.

"What was that?" Fred prodded.

"He was agreeing that he was distracted," Angelina said.

"By what? You don't think about much else than Quidditch, anyway," George said, joining the conversation.

"That's not true," Oliver said, somewhat indignantly, searching frantically for an example other than the one that immediately came to mind in case they asked.

"Like what?"

"Like, I think about… school. Some. And I think about other things, just like the lot of you."

Angelina shrugged and speared a bit of scrambled eggs onto her fork. "But what was specifically distracting you yesterday? Was it Katie?"

Oliver almost choked on his toast. "What? I don't like Katie! I have no feelings for that girl –"

He stopped. Everyone was silent, watching him with quirked eyebrows.

"We know. I was talking about the argument you had with her. Was it distracting you?"

"Oh. Right." Why had he reacted like that? Of course he didn't like Katie; why would they think he did? Stupid. Now they would all be suspicious. "I guess," he answered. "Yeah."

Angelina took another bite of eggs, deciding silence was the key to carrying on normally, even though they were all thinking Oliver was completely nutters.

"So, yeah, about the Appleby Arrows," Fred started, engaging in conversation again, allowing the chatter in their group to slowly resume.

- - - -

Classes that day were slow and dry, impatience permeating the air around both the students and the professors.

Professor Snape didn't even attempt to be civil; he came in with a snarl on his face and billowed to the front of the room, taking up a piece of chalk and purposely screeching it against the blackboard as he wrote out the assignment.

He turned to face his Sixth and Seventh year students. "You have the rest of the class period to complete this. There should be no need for me to explain it to you, because you were all to read the chapter on this as homework."

Oliver cursed under his breath as he set up his cauldron. Of course he hadn't read the chapter. He'd been busy with Quidditch. What was a pilloworm anyway? And why would someone need a non-itching potion for it?

Katie was next to him, confidently measuring out ingredients and pouring them into her cauldron.

"Katie," he hissed. "Katie, what are we doing?"

"Snape's looking," she said out of the corner of her mouth, but otherwise appeared to ignore him completely.

Snape strode over, tsking sarcastically. "Mr. Wood. Why haven't you started? Surely you read the chapter."

"I-" Oliver stammered, feeling foolish. He was doing that more and more often lately. "No, sir, I didn't." He straightened his shoulders, trying to feel confident.

Snape's eyes flickered black, narrowing. "Detention this evening for you, Mr. Wood."

"But I've got Quidditch practice –"

"Which you will be canceling," Snape interrupted, leaning into Oliver's face. "That is a game. This is your education. Be here at five. Two hour detention."

"Professor, is that really reasonable?" Katie asked, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. Snape spun to glare at her.

"I think so, yes, Miss Bell."

"Well, but I mean – he's been busy. We've all been-"

"Busy doing what? Homework? I do not see evidence of that," Snape sneered. "Get back to work before you earn yourself a detention."

Katie snapped her mouth shut, her jaw set. She snatched up her spoon and started stirring her potion, which was smoking slightly and giving off a minty smell.

Oliver sighed. Detention. Just what he didn't need.

"Sorry," he muttered to Katie who shook her head violently, whispering something fiercely about greasy bats and pilloworms – Oliver didn't catch all of it.

At the end of class, Snape passed their table again. "Your cauldron is empty, Mr. Wood."

"I know."

Snape arched an eyebrow.

"You'd just give him a zero, anyway," Katie said, tossing her head and glaring at him. "Why should he have bothered to waste ingredients?"

"_Enough_, Miss Bell. Be here at five to serve detention. And your potion should have a blue tint to it, which is quite lacking. Clearly you did a poor job of comprehending the homework, if you read it at all." He swept away, moving onto the next table of cowering students.

Katie gathered her books and threw them in her book bag, slinging it over her shoulder, turning to leave. Oliver hurriedly grabbed his own stack of books and followed her.

"Bell," he called once they were in the hallway. She stopped, waiting for him to catch up. "What did you have to go and do that for?"

"Do what?" They started walking.

"Go and get yourself a detention."

Katie rolled her eyes. "Please. Don't give me a lecture. It's not like we could have had practice without you."

Oliver made a noise in the back of his throat that may have been a protest.

"And anyway," she added, "detention is lonely."

- - - -

At five o'clock, they made their way down to the dungeons to serve detention. Right before they entered, Katie shoved a piece of parchment into Oliver's hand. He gave her a questioning look, but she shook her head.

"You'll see. Just a little something Fred and George ordered." She gave him a mischievous smile and knocked on the door.

"Yes," Snape called from inside. He looked up from his desk as they entered. He pointed to two desks across the room from each other. The two students sighed and moved to sit down. "You will use this time to read the chapter on pilloworm potions and write an essay on the effect of pilloworm bites and why you need the potion. Get to work." He picked up his quill and went back to grading papers, his hand making large, slashing movements as he wrote the grade at the top of the parchment.

Katie picked up her quill and started scratching at her own piece of parchment.

Oliver sighed. Something on his desk caught his eye and he leaned forward. Writing was appearing on the parchment Katie had given him…

_So, Wood… what do you think?_ He pulled back, startled, and looked at Katie. She was grinning and looking at him. She motioned writing to him and he hurriedly dipped his quill in ink and started writing.

**Where did you get these?**

_I told you. Fred and George ordered them. Clever, isn't it?_

**Incredibly.**** Why don't people use these instead of owls?**

_They only work when both pieces of parchment are in the same room._

**Brilliant all the same.**** The ultimate note-passing technique.**

_ Quite. Fred and George have been using them all week. Not one of the professors has noticed._

**So, really, you knew he was going to give you detention if you said anything. But you said it anyway. Why?**

_I just couldn't hold my tongue. He's been handing out detentions like candy for the past two weeks. Also it's a wonderful way to avoid that Knowler boy. He said something this morning about wanting to talk to me later._

**Knowler?**** Jason Knowler? Why would you want to avoid him?**

_Oh, just playing hard to get. He keeps bringing up the next Hogsmeade weekend._

**How so? **

_He keeps saying, "Wouldn't it be fun if we went together?" and looking at me with gooey eyes. It's rather flattering._

**Are you going to go?**

_You ask too many questions, Wood. What about you? Isn't there anyone you've been thinking of asking to Hogsmeade? Perhaps… oh, I don't know, Leah Curver?_

**I wasn't going to ask her to Hogsmeade. What made you think that?**

_The way your face goes all wonky when someone mentions her or she walks by._

**My face goes wonky? I didn't know.**

_Oh, sure. Riiiiight, Mr. Wood. We can all hear your heart pound faster when she's near._

**Maybe just a little.**

Oliver waited for her reply. It was taking her awhile. He glanced over. Ah, there she was, writing again.

_We should stop writing. I think Snape knows something's up._

Oliver glanced at Snape, who was deeply absorbed in the papers he was grading. Or at least appeared to be. Oliver was going to write and tell Katie this, but she was rolling the parchment up and tucking it into her book bag. So much for that.

He flipped open his potions book, but couldn't focus. He looked over at Katie again, who was staring at her own book. It didn't look like she was reading. She flipped the page, and then another page. Too fast to be reading.

"Mr. Wood," Snape said. Oliver jerked, surprised. Snape fixed him with a glare. "Back to work."


	3. Of Hell and Rambling

**Disclaimer: **No, I really don't own Harry Potter. You must have me confused with J.K. Rowling.

**A/N:** Okay, so there was an error. There is a review submitted under my penname for this story, but I'm just letting you all know that it was my dear sibling that left the review, unaware they were logged in as me. Thanks again to each and every one of my reviewers for the feedback. I really appreciate it. Gooey chocolate chip cookies for all: CarbonMonoxide, tinkerbell86, cait whylie, RandomSmirf13, Georgeluver92, and FizzingWhizbeez. Unless you don't like gooey chocolate chip cookies, in which case you get a cookie of your choice. Reveiwer responses are on my profile page, if any of you care to check. : )

**Of Love and Quiddtich**

Chapter Three: _Of Hell and Rambling_

- - - -

"Oh, bugger. And I could've done with some food, too," Oliver said, lamenting the fact that they'd only just been released from Snape's dungeon, therefore missing dinner.

The hallways were crowded with content students, their stomachs full and their thoughts drifting to pleasant things, like reading in front of the fireplace in their common room or a good game of Wizard's Chess.

Katie nodded in agreement, hugging her books to her chest, her stomach growling loudly.

"Woah," Oliver laughed. "You _are_ –"

"Hi, Oliver!" Leah Curver waved as she headed toward them, giving Oliver a huge smile.

"Leah," Oliver said, nodding his head.

"I thought you did well at the match, even though Gryffindor lost."

"Thanks." He wondered if Katie could actually hear his heart beating faster. It wasn't racing, but it had mildly increased its rate. "We lost pretty badly."

Leah laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Katie felt her jaw tighten as she noticed herself admiring the shininess of Leah's hair. Why didn't _her_ hair look like that? She glanced at Oliver, who looked like he was admiring it, too, but in a very different way.

"Well, good night, Oliver."

"Night," he replied and watched Leah move off up the stairs toward the Ravenclaw common room.

_What? I don't exist?_ Katie thought, frowning after the Ravenclaw. _I was standing right here._

She turned to Oliver to say something sarcastic about this, but he spoke first.

"She's a nice girl, don't you think?"

Katie's knuckles turned white as she clutched her books. "Yes. Nice." _Nice to see you go, Leah._ But that was just mean. Oliver had the right to like anyone he wanted to.

"What were we talking about?" Oliver asked as they rounded the corner.

"Geez, Wood," Katie said trying to keep her tone teasing but sounding snappish instead, "It wasn't that long ago."

He was silent for a moment then snapped his fingers. "Food, right? We were talking about food. Your stomach had growled. Right?"

"Right," Katie agreed flatly. "But I've lost my appetite. I'm just going to go to bed."

"It's only seven. We could sneak into the kitchens and get some food. Fred and George showed me how, last year." He looked at her, waiting. He was being nice. She shouldn't rush off. "Yes?" he prodded. "I know you're hungry."

"I said, no. I'm tired."

"Come on, Bell," he cajoled. "We both heard your stomach growl."

"No, thanks… I'm just… exhausted. I'll see you at practice tomorrow."

He watched her start up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room. She was acting really off, but he didn't know why. Girls.

He started to turn away when he saw a boy stop Katie on the steps. Knowler. Oliver cocked his head, trying to hear better, but still be discreet.

"…more about this weeked?" Jason was asking.

"Oh, right… I haven't had a whole lot of time, you know –"

"Well, what's holding you back?" Jason asked, moving closer to Katie.

She paused, opened her mouth, closed it, looked down the stairs and noticed Oliver. Her mouth tightened slightly and she turned back to Jason. "Nothing. Nothing's hold me back."

"So you'll go with me to Hogsmeade?"

"Yes."

"I'm looking forward to it. Good night, Katie." Jason leaned forward a little, maybe to give her a kiss, but Oliver turned away before he could find out. He didn't need to see anything like that.

- - - -

Alone in the kitchens with a dry biscuit in his hand, Oliver was fuming and he didn't know why. He kept thinking about that Knowler boy. What was it about him that Oliver didn't like? And why had Katie gotten all unfriendly toward him? What had _he_ done?

It was probably going to make practice hell.

He took a bite of the biscuit, which crumbled in his hand, the pieces flaking into his lap and onto the floor. "Bah," he muttered, brushing his hand at his pants leg and standing up to leave.

- - - -

Practice was hell.

He should take over Professor Trelawney's job, given the fact that he almost had her beat in terms of number of accurate predictions.

Yes, practice was hell. Katie, he noticed, was talking and laughing with the others, but when he said something to her, she'd give him a monosyllabic answer and then turn back to the others. At least she was doing her part of the game.

Actually, she was scoring exceptionally well. She would throw the Quaffle quite forcefully through the hoops and Oliver found he had a hard time blocking them and when he managed to, his hands always stung a little afterward.

Alicia, on the other hand was being mildly distracted by George, who appeared to be flirting exuberantly with her.

Maybe she was more than mildly distracted, actually, seeing as how when Angelina threw her the Quaffle, she didn't notice and was smacked in the face with it. At least it was only a minor nose bleed.

Oliver called a time-out and everyone landed their brooms. "Spinnet, you all right?"

She nodded rather miserably, holding a hand under her nose.

"George, take her to Madam Pomfrey."

George grinned at Alicia and offered her his arm and she took it, trying unsuccessfully to hide her smile as she wiped a dribble of blood on her sleeve.

"Fred, Angelina," Oliver said, "You can take a quick break. Bell, over here." He beckoned her over with his hand.

"You've been doing really good, Bell. But you seem cold."

"It's a cold November evening," she said.

"Not like that." Oliver ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "You know what I mean. Like you're angry."

"I'm not angry." She glared.

"Right," Oliver said after a pause. "Well, then. What are you?"

"I'm –" she snapped, but closed her mouth, cutting herself off. "I'm sorry, Wood." Her face and posture softened. "I've been a little irritated lately. It's nothing… nothing to do with you at all."

"Okay. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Thanks."

"Maybe later?" he offered. "I'm always willing to work out problems with my team. Anything to improve their psychological well-being. It happens to improve their game, too, actually. Which is the main reason I'm offering to help with your psychological well-being. So your game will be better. Because I'm really not one to talk about emotions, but if it's something that's maybe impeding one's Quidditch abilities, I'm the first to… to sit down and chat about it… a bit. I'm rambling. I'm shutting up now."

Katie was watching him, an eyebrow quirked upward. "Right. Thanks. I'll… think about it."

Oliver slapped her on the back a bit too heartily and she pitched forward, stumbling before she caught herself. "Er… sorry about that," Oliver said, a blush creeping over his ears. "I don't usually… it was… maybe you had poor footing to begin with."

"Or maybe," Fred cut in coming up to sling his arm over Oliver's shoulders, "You just admitted to being the first to sit down and have a chat about emotions and so you were trying to regain your exceedingly manly reputation by thwacking the poor thing on the back with exceptional enthusiasm."

Which was entirely possible.

- - - -

**A/N:** Please review and give me your opinion on whether you think Oliver and Katie's relationship is moving too fast or too slow – or just drop a line letting me know what you think of the story in general! Constructive criticism is awesome, but flames not so much. Thanks for reading (and reviewing)!


	4. Of Gossip and Mattresses

**Disclaimer: **Is everyone bored of reading these by now? I'm bored of writing them. I don't own Harry Potter. I don't make profits, you don't sue me, all will be well.

**A/N:** Whoo-hoo! Thank you, thank you, thank you, to _all_ of my reviewers for the feedback! I don't know if people are getting bored of the chocolate chip cookies, so we have doughnuts all around this time. : ) With sprinkles, if any of you care, but I myself don't like them so well. Sorry it took me such a long time to get this up, everyone! I hope you read it and enjoy it, and then review it… reviews actually quite motivate me. Hm.

**Of Love and Quidditch**

Chapter Four: _Of Gossip and Mattresses_

Oliver was eating lunch in the Great Hall, contemplating their latest Quidditch practice when Fred sat down on his right side and George on his left. Oliver looked up from his food and to each side.

"I know something you don't know," Fred sang quietly.

"Oh?" Oliver said, turning to look at him.

"Oh, yes," George said just as quietly. "Quite the juicy bit of gossip."

"Gossip?" Oliver asked, turning to look to his left.

"The vile spread of information that keeps people living," Fred added.

"Well, I don't go in for gossip –" Oliver began.

"You'll go in for this bit," George said.

"What is it then?"

"Something of a rather amusing nature," Fred said.

"And something that relates directly to you, Wood," George said.

Oliver looked interested now.

"Which means we won't be disclosing any real information to you," Fred said.

"Other than that we know something you don't know," George finished.

The twins stood up. "No, wait," Oliver said, dropping his fork. "What is it?"

Fred shook his head.

"Reckon you'll find out soon enough," George said with a grin and a glance at Fred. They started off, laughing loudly.

"That wasn't very nice, you know," Oliver called after them.

"The suspense makes it all so much better, Wood. Remember that," Fred threw over his shoulder.

- - - -

Hogsmeade weekend was fast approaching and Katie was constantly asking herself just why she had agreed to go with Jason. At the time, of course, it had been a plan, but now it was just stupid. Now she actually had to go with the boy.

She hadn't seen Oliver all week, either. Well, all right, she'd _seen_ him, but they hadn't talked, so it felt like they weren't even in the same room.

So it was quite a surprise when they ran into one another – literally – at the library.

Katie was on her way out, Oliver was on his way in, and they collided.

"Sorry," Oliver said, rubbing his nose.

"No, no, my fault entirely," Katie said, rubbing her forehead, into which his nose had crashed.

"No, really, I wasn't looking where I was going," Oliver insisted.

"Are you all right?" Katie asked.

"Yes. You're very soft, so –" Oliver's face went up in flame. "So no harm done," he finished hurriedly. "It wasn't like smashing into rock or anything, like I'd taken a running start and smashed into rock, no. More like bumping into a mattress, I suppose, if you think about it. I'm not thinking about it, of course, I'm just saying, you know –"

"Oliver."

"Yes?" he breathed, thankful for the break.

"Just stop while you're ahead."

"Good! Yes, brilliant idea you have there, Miss Bell." _Miss Wonderfully Soft Mattress Bell._

"Are you going to schedule a practice anytime soon?" Katie asked. "I miss playing. It's almost been a week."

"Oh, right." Oliver blinked. "Yeah, I have one scheduled for tomorrow evening. That works for you, doesn't it?"

"Of course."

"Good. Good. Well, see you there."

They turned sideways and edged past one another through the doorway, Oliver still slightly red in the face.

- - - -

"A mattress."

"Well, that's not _bad,"_ Alicia said. "Mattresses are nice."

"Was he calling me _fat,_ do you think?" Katie asked, a frown wrinkling her brow.

"No," Angelina said. "Mattresses are soft and springy… not fat feeling. He probably called you a mattress because he was subconsciously thinking about lying on you."

"Angelina!" Katie shrieked and smacked her friend on the arm. "Don't be pervy about this."

"It might not have even been subconscious," she added with a grin.

"Really, Katie," Alicia said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "Just tell the boy you like him, why don't you? He probably likes you back."

"I don't like him," Katie protested loudly, swinging a pillow in Alicia's direction.

"What?" Angelina asked.

"Then why are you obsessing?" Alicia ducked the pillow. "You _do_ realize you're dissecting pretty much every little thing he's said to you in the past twenty-four hours, right?"

Katie flopped back on the bed. "Well, think what you like, then, but I don't like the boy. I was just wondering if he thought I was fat, because if he noticed something like that, other people would have, too."

Angelina rolled her eyes and Alicia stuck her tongue out at Katie. "You are _so_ obsessed with our Quidditch Captain. Admit it, Bell."

"I'm not admitting it because it's not _true_. Anyway, as proof, I'm going to Hogsmeade with Jason Knowler."

"We know," her friends chorused.

"How?" Katie asked with a little frown. She didn't remember talking about it before.

"Oliver mentioned it… said you two kissed on the stairwell."

"We did _not!_" Katie shrieked. "I didn't kiss Jason _Knowler!_ Why would he think that? He's making that up."

"Well, he didn't say he _saw_ it, because he left to give you your privacy, but apparently Jason was leaning in and you weren't pulling away," Alicia said.

"Ugh, _no_. Oliver just left too soon, then, because I fully jerked away from Knowler."

"From your reaction I'm thinking you don't like Jason," Angelina said. "I'm thinking you're definitely a bit fluttery when Oliver's around. You know, your heart turns over and your stomach threatens to lurch out your mouth or get caught in your throat…"

"Oliver seemed a bit edgy… or irritated, maybe is the word I'm looking for, when he told us about the kiss."

"We didn't kiss," Katie corrected.

"He was saying something about how he didn't want to bring it up because you'd already had an argument over it, but he doesn't want you being distracted by boys. Throws a person's game off, apparently," Angelina added.

"Yes, we _did_ already have that argument. I'm quite capable of focusing! Hasn't he seen that yet? I wouldn't let a boy distract me!"

Angelina suddenly went into a fit of coughing and Katie could distinctly hear, "_Oliver,"_ mixed in.

Katie thought about being huffy but that wasn't worth it, so she just shook her head, denying once more that she had feelings for their Quidditch Captain.

- - - -

"All right!" Oliver clapped his hands. "I realized we haven't been keeping up well enough with our practices, team, and with the next match only a month away, we need to work harder. We need to try harder."

And try harder they did. Wood had them on the pitch every evening of every week for three hours… more, if he could convince them all into staying.

"_Excellent,_ Angelina!" he shouted one night when she maneuvered her broom in a sharp but perfect turn, throwing the Quaffle past him and through the hoops.

"Oliver, mate," George called. "It's starting to drizzle a bit, maybe we could… uh, go in?"

Oliver looked up at the sky. It was getting darker by the minute, and he could certainly feel the rain on his face, no matter how much he wished he could deny it. They'd played in worse conditions, certainly, but they'd already been out for two hours or so. And he didn't need any of his team getting sick. "All right, everyone! We're done. Practice again tomorrow night! _Be here!_"

As the team trudged their way back toward the castle, Oliver fell into step beside Fred and George and said, "So, er… any gossip you boys feel like sharing?"

"No," they said simultaneously and laughed.

"It's delightful watching you mull it over, Wood… you rarely give thought to things other than Quidditch." Fred grinned.

"Ooh, but here's a hint: it's related to Quidditch, in a way," George said.

"Have fun, Oliver, old boy," Fred said and swung his broom over his shoulder, nearly smacking Oliver in the head.

"See? He _does_ go in for gossip," George laughed, giving Oliver an elbow in the rib.


	5. Of Flashing and Hugging

**Disclaimer: **Nope. Not mine.

**A/N: **Okay. Sorry this took me forever to get up. : P I hadn't/haven't forgotten about it, I just had nothing for it. Thanks _always_ to all the wonderful people who took the time to review.

**Of Love and Quidditch**

Chapter Five: _Of Flashing and Hugging_

Two days later, it was Saturday and Katie realized, as she jerked awake in a cold sweat that the reason she was jerking awake was because today was the day she was supposed to go to Hogsmeade with Jason. She groaned and ground her palms into her eyes. How had she forgotten? Aside from the fact that she had been obsessing over the mattress comment Oliver had made, she really should have had time to remember she was going someplace with Jason. Too bad she remembered… if she hadn't, she wouldn't have had to go with him. Maybe she could pretend… "Oh, uh, I forgot." Big blink-blink eyes. Nah. That would just be mean. And he didn't deserve mean.

- - - -

"Katie!" Jason exclaimed, beaming at her as she walked towards him.

"Hey," she said and it came out sounding unenthusiastic, which wasn't what she had intended so she plastered a huge, but what she hoped looked authentic, smile on her face and tried to put an extra bounce in her step. This, unfortunately, was a bad idea, because she was wearing a pair of slightly heeled shoes (which was rare) and they were a size too small, seeing as they weren't actually hers but Parvati's, therefore meaning they were tight and already her toes were going numb. This means, with that extra bounce she was adding to her step, she tripped and fell.

So, yes, it was embarrassing. She was embarrassed that she had fallen down in front of an attractive, albeit uninteresting boy and several other people. Mostly, though, she was worried the skirt she was wearing had flipped up and was showing off her pants. She hoped she was at least wearing good pants. Nothing grey or baggy.

"Oh God, are you all right?" Jason was at her side, a concerned expression contorting his face in a mildly unattractive way. It was sweet anyway.

Katie scrambled to her feet, tugging at the hem of her skirt. She felt her face flaming and she glanced over her shoulder, because those would have been the people she flashed. If in fact she'd flashed anyone.

Oliver was behind her a few meters standing with a group of people. But he was watching her and he raised an eyebrow. Her face, if possible, got even redder and she turned back to Jason.

"I'm great! Why do you ask?" she chirped.

Jason laughed congenially. "That's the attitude! It never happened."

- - - -

By the end of the day, Katie was wishing just that. That it never happened.

It wasn't that Jason wasn't nice. He was. But he didn't talk about anything other than the history of magic. His favorite class, too, apparently. Not Katie's.

Also? When they'd stepped into Madam Rosmerta's for Butterbeer he'd slurped. The entire thing. Reeeeeaally slowly. Katie had been chewing her lip the entire time to keep from saying something. She couldn't focus on anything else. Which was her fault, because she could have thought of something to distract her. But slurping really bothered her. Slurp, slurp, slurp. Just the word bothered her, much less the action, sending chills down her back and making her ground her teeth together, the same reaction as when someone dragged their nails across a blackboard. So that wasn't the high point of the day.

_And_ he'd tried to kiss her again. Like, twice. Was he desperate or what? She hadn't let him, of course. The first time she'd ducked away, pretending to be intensely interested in a product displayed at the candy shop. The second time it was kind of hard to ignore him as he had just slung his arm about her shoulders and was leaning in really close to her face, with eye contact.

So she'd said, "Um, well, Jason, I don't think that's the best idea." _Because I will knee you in the crotch if you breathe on my face anymore._ "Not to hurt your feelings." _Well, actually, it's fine by me if I do, but I'm being polite. _"But I think it's just too soon in this…"

"Relationship?" he'd annoyingly supplied.

_Not my word for it._ "Um. Yeah."

At the end of it all, back at Hogwarts, when Jason and Katie were saying goodnight, Jason moved a little closer and said, "If not a kiss, than a hug?"

Katie eyed him. He better not hug her too tightly. One armed was probably the best option. Leaning one armed. Didn't want to get too close. So she started the leaning one armed process, lost her balance in those damn shoes of Parvati's and fell against Jason.

As Oliver walked by again. He had the worst timing, that boy did. When Katie glanced at him, his face looked stony and his walk was stiff.

Katie turned her eyes back to Jason. He was looking mighty pleased and had both his arms around her, still hugging her to him.

"Okay, Jason? That was a mistake." She pulled away and he dropped his arms back to his sides. "I didn't want to hug you like that. I wanted a one armed leaning hug."

He looked confused.

"Never mind," Katie said. "I didn't want it as personal as it was. You're a nice sort of bloke, but this really won't work between us."

"I'm not giving up on you that easily, Katie Bell," he said quietly.

_No,_ she thought. _I'm telling you not to try anymore._ She didn't feel like saying that out loud just yet, though. His eyes were searching her face as if this was some sort of big momentous relationship and they loved one another deeply. _So_ not.

"Good night," Katie said pleasantly enough and turned to go. He was taking this way too seriously. It was just supposed to be a fluffy, let's-kill-time-together date. Not the beginning of a relationship.

"Sweet dreams," Jason said. Oh, _blech._ It wasn't what he said. It was the way he said it. Not to the point of Lecherous Pervert, but definitely implying that maybe she would… what? Dream about him? And that he'd dream about her?

- - - -

Katie made her way through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room, pulling off her shoes as she did. She looked up to find Oliver watching her. He stared at her for a moment before turning back to Fred and George. She scowled at the back of his head, sticking out her tongue before stalking past, pretty sure her feet would never be the same and that her center of balance was now forever whacked out.

Oliver discreetly eyed Katie as she stalked past.

"Oh, now what was _that_?" George asked, pulling Oliver's attention back. "I saw that. I saw what you did."

"What did I do?"

"You just checked Katie out," Fred said with a smug look on his face that Oliver didn't particularly like.

"I did not. I don't know what you're talking about," Oliver said calmly, highly irritated.

"Um. Yeah, that's what we call it, Oliver." George turned his head, opened his mouth and bugged his eyes out, letting his gaze follow a pretend girl.

"You have no class, dear fellow," Oliver said and leaned back in his chair, "if that's how _you_ check a girl out."

"Isn't it wonderful?" George said cheerily.

"For your information, I wasn't 'checking her out,' anyway. It was more of a 'checking on' her."

Fred cocked his head. "What? How so?"

"She's been hanging about with that Knowler boy. I just don't think he's the best fellow to be getting tangled up with."

Fred and George shared raised eyebrow looks. "Tangled up with? Heh-heh."

"Oh, shut up," Oliver said, folding his arms over his chest. "Bad choice of words. You know what I meant."

"Yeah, you meant _tangled up with._ In _that_ way."

"_No,_ that's not what I meant. _Not _like that."

"So, why do you care who she tangles with?" Fred asked.

"Well, number one, relationships might throw her game off –"

"You keep saying that," George said.

"Number two, she needs to focus on her game –"

"Same reason you gave as number one," Fred inserted.

"_Number three,_" Oliver snapped, giving them both looks, "I saw Jason chatting up a Ravenclaw Fourth Year in the halls. And a Hufflepuff Sixth Year in class. I just don't want Katie to get hurt."

Fred and George were staring at him, their faces slightly dumbfounded. George flicked his eyebrows and leaned back.

"Well," he said, still looking slightly stricken.

"Well," Fred said. "That's… interesting."

"What?" Oliver was immediately wary. "What'd I say?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just interesting, is all."


	6. Of Distressing Dreams and BumSwatters

**Of Love and Quidditch**

Chapter Six: _Of Distressing Dreams and Bum-Swatters _

The twins' distressingly vague, but apparently deeply meaningful comments irritated Oliver to no end.

"I'm going to bed," he said and stomped off toward the boys' dorms. Obviously the twins didn't feel like sharing anything with him. Buggers. And they kept talking about their juicy bit of gossip, which was driving him completely bonkers. They shouldn't keep reminding him about it and then refusing to say anything further. Because frankly? Oliver was obsessing over it. He was worried it would throw his game off.

- - - -

Oliver tossed. He turned. He adjusted his pillow. He turned. He ground his face into his pillow. He tossed. He punched his pillow. He sat up. He lay down. He turned. He kicked the covers. He pulled his pillow out from under his head and set it over his face. He bit it. He growled. He pinched his eyes shut. He stretched his face. He counted Snitches.

He couldn't sleep. He didn't know what was keeping him awake. He did, however, have a hunch. There was a deep, driving urge to smoosh his palm into Jason Knowler's face and yell at the boy. It must have been something Jason did.

Katie.

_Not _that Jason had _done_ Katie. But that was what was keeping Oliver awake; the thought of Katie going on dates and _hugging_ Knowler. That hug was burned into his retina. They'd been so close there wasn't room for an air molecule. Bah. Silly Katie. And Jason didn't exactly seem to be Mr. Monogamous. That must have been it. Even if Katie could handle a relationship and Quidditch, certainly drama - such as cheating on Jason the Bastard's part (as Oliver had now dubbed him) - in the relationship wouldn't bode well for her game. She was such a good player, too. Gryffindor wouldn't be doomed without her but she certainly helped raise the bar. And she knew Spinnet and Johnson so well. Got along great with them, in fact. They could read each other so easily during play it was sort of like they were one person in three bodies. Freakish, actually, but definitely necessary.

He rolled over again. _Was_ that really all he thought about? Quidditch? He always thought the others were exaggerating, but now he wasn't so sure… it was certainly all he talked about. But no, the others were quite wrong, because he'd been thinking about several things lately… one of them was related to Quidditch, in a way, but wasn't about it at all, really. It was about… but that was an uncomfortable thought. Oliver pulled his pillow over his head and fell into a restless sleep. His dreams that night were not one's he cared for.

---

_"..._what_? They're not dating, Colin. Please."_

_"I have pictures," Colin Creevey whispered conspiratorially. Oliver pulled away, disgusted. What a creepy little first year. What a pervert. "Wanna see?" He glanced over his shoulder, checking both ways before reaching inside his robes and whipping out a stack of shiny photographs. "Just developed 'em yesterday." He thrust them into Oliver's reluctantly outstretched hand._

_The photos were blurry… but they could've been Katie and Jason. Holding hands by the lake, eating lunch together… but one couldn't really tell._

_"Colin, I don't think this is them," Oliver said, handing the photos back. Colin sniffed and tucked the pictures out of sight once again._

_"Well," he huffed, "Fine. Just see if I ask you for a recommendation when I apply to be Rita Skeeter's personal photographer."_

_"What?"_

_"Can't you just see it, Wood? Front page – my picture – _my_ picture of the Weird Sisters' bass player having lunch with a woman who's _not his fiancé_. It would be brilliant. Rita would write the article and I would supply the necessary proof."_

_"Where would you find the bass player eating with someone who's not his fiancé?" Oliver asked._

_Colin shrugged…_

The talk of fiancés in Oliver's dream must have triggered something, because the dream changed, and all of a sudden…

_"Damn you, Oliver! You can't tell me what to do!" Katie screamed, hurling a beater's bat at him. He ducked and the bat just missed. They were on the Quidditch pitch and it was raining hard, each of them soaked through. _

_"I'm not trying to tell you what to do," Oliver argued, "I'm just saying –"_

_"You can't stop me marrying him," Katie said fiercely, "I'm quitting the Quidditch team to be with him. I love him, I love Jason, Oliver. And there's nothing you can do!" She pulled a hairdryer from the sleeve of her robes and flung it at Oliver. This time he didn't duck – he was paralyzed by her words. However, the hairdryer fell short and didn't hit him anyway. _

_"Bu – b – but, Katie," he stuttered, "You're only seventeen! Do you really think you want to be married that young?"_

_"I'm quitting the Quidditch team to be with him," Katie repeated and began flinging Snitches at Oliver. He couldn't catch any of them and suddenly there was a crowd of booing students in the stands and the Snitches turned into Quaffles and he still couldn't catch any. One of the Quaffles hit him hard in the face and Colin Creevey was suddenly beside him, laughing and snapping pictures._

Oliver awoke with a jerk, his heart pounding and his face stinging. He blinked his eyes rapidly, adjusting to the bright sunlight streaming through the windows. Fred and George were standing over him and George held a flyswatter in his hand.

"What," Oliver asked coldly, "is that?" He indicated the flyswatter and George hurriedly tucked it behind his back.

"It's not a flyswatter, if that's what you're getting at," Fred said.

"Not a flyswatter at all," George echoed.

"Well, what the bloody hell _is _it because I'm ninety-nine percent sure you just smacked me in the bloody face with it!" Oliver demanded, throwing his covers off.

"It's a bum-swatter," Fred explained calmly.

"A _what?_"

"A bum-swatter. A device used to swat bums," George clarified.

"That's sick," Oliver grumbled, feeling slightly insulted that they'd just slapped his face with a bum-swatter.

"Yeah," the twins agreed.

"Anyway, we heard you mumbling about a certain someone and thought you might not want everyone else to hear."

"Oh?" Oliver's face suddenly flamed red. He knew he occasionally talked during his sleep… oh, Merlin, he prayed he hadn't said anything about Katie. Not that it mattered. "Who all might've heard?"

"Well, Jack Limply, for one," Fred offered, indicating Jack's snoozing form across the room.

"Who else?" Oliver asked, eyeing the other, suspiciously empty, beds.

"Well, Jack Limply, for one," Fred repeated.

"Buggers… you just wanted to smack me in the face with your – your _bum-swatter,_" Oliver sputtered.

"Pretty much," George agreed.

"Although, I admit, it was rather a bit harder than we'd intended," added Fred. He shrugged, as if this were nothing that required an apology. "Anyway, you started talking about..." Fred stopped and exchanged looks with George.

"Well, go on then, tell me," Oliver snapped, bothered by their theatrics and still slightly burned by the fact that they'd hit him in the face.

"Well, you started talking about Colin Creevey," George said uneasily. "Said his name about three times. Then… then Katie came up a couple times. And, well, you sounded a bit distressed, so we thought, you know… put you out of your misery."

"So you smacked me with a bum-swatter," Oliver said.

Fred nodded. "It worked quite well."

One couldn't argue with that.

---

Oliver spent the rest of the morning in an irritated, paranoid, anxious state. Irritated because of his lack of sleep and being woken with a slap to the face, paranoid because of the unreasonable, yet horrifying dream of Katie leaving the Quidditch team to marry Jason Knowler at age seventeen (that dream was still haunting him), and anxious because the Quidditch match was only a few weeks away, and if he or any other members of the team performed as he did with those Quaffles in his dream, they were in a very bad way.

It was for this reason Oliver thought it a Very Good Idea to up the Quidditch team's practices even further.

---

"_Three _bloody hours?" Angelina Johnson flared at the news. "_Three_ hours of practice every night? What about homework?"

"What about it?" Oliver asked stiffly, folding his arms over his chest. "You'll get it done."

"Right, let's see… due _tomorrow,_ I have a twenty-inch essay, a foot long paper for potions, and I _have_ to be able to change a Chinese fan into a peacock by tomorrow, or McGonagall will have a _fit_… _none_ of which I've been able to start on yet. And you're asking me for _three hours?_"

"Well, Johnson, your homework is your responsibility. This team is mine, and I'm telling you I want you down on the pitch with everyone else at five."

Angelina made a face. "Not that I'm not dedicated, _Wood,_ but you do know what you're asking, don't you? As soon as classes are over with, we have to come out here until eight – _eight_ – and then go in for dinner and then go to our dorms… that doesn't leave much time for life."

Oliver opened his mouth to mention that Quidditch pretty much _was_ life, but then thought better of it. The look on Angelina's face made him uneasy. "Please be here, Angelina?" he asked. "You know the team wouldn't ever work without you." Angelina softened. "You _know_ we need your bloody fantastic talent."

"Oh, all right," she agreed grudgingly, but he could tell from the look in her eyes that she was pleased. He could also tell she would've been there, no matter what… she was just giving him a hard time.

Oliver turned to everyone else. "Any other conflicts with homework?"

Fred and George shrugged nonchalantly, implying that if they _did_ have homework, they wouldn't be doing it anyway. Harry put on a brave and stoic face, basically saying that he'd get his homework _and_ Quidditch done, no matter what. Alicia said she was fine. Katie mumbled something about an advanced astrology chart due in a couple weeks and how Professor Sinistra might be a bit upset if she missed it, seeing as how she'd missed the last one, too.

"Well, good then," Oliver said. "That's settled. Three hours. Every night, starting tonight."


	7. Of Breakups and Breakdowns

**Disclaimer: **If Harry Potter were mine, I have the sneaking suspicion I would be off writing the Seventh Book and not fan fiction.

**Author's Notes:** I first want to apologise to anyone who may have been waiting in angsty silence and anticipation for me to update. It's been awhile. I think I had writer's block because there was a scene in this chapter that stumped me and threw me off and pushed me away until tonight. So, here you go. Thanks to all my superb, kind, excellent reviewers – I appreciate it so much. And thank you to all the very nice silent readers. I appreciate you, too. Reviewer Responses are on my profile if any of you care.

**Of Love and Quidditch**

Chapter Seven: _Of Break-ups and Breakdowns _

Oliver Wood was having a bad day. He had growing suspicions that it was just another in a long line of bad days. First of all, it was cold. But more than that, it was the fact that a blustering storm came along with the chill. Meaning, obviously, that Quidditch practise was out of the question. Bugger. At least Angelina would have a free night do her blasted homework. Maybe then she'd stop giving him dirty looks during practice.

Alas, Angelina was doing no such thing. She was, instead, cramped up in the corner laughing with Fred Weasley. It was Oliver's turn to shoot her a dirty look. That she didn't see. Well, at least she couldn't complain now about not having time for her work.

_So there,_ Oliver thought snarkily.

- - -

In the mean time, Katie Bell was also having a bad day. It didn't bother her so much that it was rainy and cold out. It _bothered_ her that in the past two days Jason had sent her three owls.

The first owl waxed lyrical about what a lovely time he'd had in Hogsmeade and how he was looking forward to spending time there with her again. He also suggested they sit together at lunch.

Needless to say, Katie didn't respond to the letter. She also didn't go to lunch, opting instead to stay holed up in the common room with a growling stomach and an anxious mind.

The second owl came the next morning, asking why she wasn't at lunch _or_ dinner. _Because, Jason, I was sitting up in the girls' dorms, bemoaning the fact that I didn't feel comfortable going down to eat with everyone else, more specifically you, and instead chewed a left over biscuit my friend brought me. That's why._ Of course she didn't _really_ reply with that, but she thought it. Oh yes, she thought it.

The third time the owl came to the window Katie turned her head, planning to staunchly ignore it.

But.

The owl didn't go away. It fluttered at the window and tapped his beak against the glass and scrabbled at the edges with its claws and went on and on and on and started panting after ten minutes and Katie began feeling guilty… especially seeing as how the owl was getting so tuckered out and looked near ready to fall to the ground. So she let it in, snatched the letter from its leg and sent it on its way.

This time the note was restating _again _Jason's wish to sit together at lunch and inquired whether she had gotten his first two notes. Persistent little cockroach-bug-thing, wasn't he? Jason's note went on to request a meeting down by the lake…

At this point, Katie had to stop reading for a moment to press her palms into her eyes. What was this boy's _problem?_ He was so… weird. He was talking as if they were nearly boyfriend and girlfriend. Probably planning their wedding already, he was.

Katie picked the note up again and quickly finished. He wanted to meet by the lake at five thirty that afternoon. Thank God the Quidditch team had practice.

She didn't feel she could reasonably just keep ignoring his owls, so she scribbled out what she hoped was a civilised yet very impersonal letter.

_Knowler,_

_Can't meet you. Have previous engagement._

_K.B. _

All right, so maybe it wasn't even _that_ civilised. But it was probably for the best. _Discouragement,_ not encouragement. Her new, albeit frantic, mantra.

And then came the storm. Which meant no practise. Which meant all the Gryffindors would be milling about the common room and Jason would be there and she couldn't ignore him forever. But she could try.

So that night, Katie was beginning to make her way once more to the girls' dorms when Jason called her name from the bottom of the stairs.

She turned and he smiled and she smiled because what else could she do? He was a nice enough bloke, just… not her type. And annoying. But nice enough.

"So, Katie, it's five thirty, and obviously we aren't meeting by the lake, but I suppose your previous engagement isn't still in tact, either?"

"Oh, er…" So he made assumptions. Hm. Not on her list of Must-Have attributes. Even though he was right. "Actually, I, uh… well, you know…" she scanned the room frantically and her eyes landed on Oliver's dark head, bent over the table as he made wild scratches on a piece of parchment. Probably Quidditch strategies. "I was just going to play chess with Oliver," she blurted.

From across the room, Oliver looked up, having heard his name.

"Chess?" Jason said.

"Yes, with Oliver." Katie started down the stairs, gave Jason a friendly enough nod in farewell and made her way to Oliver's table. "Oliver! Are you ready? To play chess?" Katie widened her eyes, raised her eyebrows, and gave him a pointed look.

"Oh, I… yes," Oliver said with a glance over Katie's shoulder at Jason. Katie pulled a chair away from the table with a loud scraping sound and sat down heavily.

"Is it all clear?" she whispered, barely moving her lips. Oliver quirked an eyebrow, checked once again to make sure Jason had turned away and gone back to his own group of friends, and nodded.

"What was that all about?" Oliver asked in a low voice.

Katie blushed and shook her head slightly. "Oh, just… it's just… well, after that Hogsmeade trip, he – well, I mean… you know," she trailed off.

Oliver blinked. "Not really."

Katie blushed again, darker this time and cast her eyes toward the table top. She shook her head again. "Never mind. We'd better play chess so he doesn't think I just made it up on the spot."

Oliver gave her a weird look. "But you did, didn't you?"

"Keep your voice down!" Katie hissed, glancing furtively over her shoulder. She got up from the table and went to the bookshelf of games along the wall, trying to look natural and collected. She pulled down the Wizards' Chess set and brought it back to Oliver.

As they dumped the pieces out of their bag and were watching them walk and bustle to their proper places on the board, Oliver said quietly, "So, not a big fan of Knowler, then?"

Katie's jaw went tight and she looked irritated. "_No,_ okay? Happy now? Got what you wanted?"

"Corr, you're a little ball of burning sunshine, aren't you?"

"Hush up. It's your move," she said, rather surly.

- - -

At first, the game was just a distraction as they sat in almost awkward silence. Their stilted conversation was unnatural and off-kilter.

"Hm. Good move," Oliver said at one point, as Katie's bishop smashed his knight. At that moment, however, Katie thought she heard her name from Jason's side of the room and was trying to hear what _they_ were saying. So she registered Oliver's comment a bit late and was almost going to say something back but decided there had been too much silence.

But then instead of moving on, she commenced to dither about a bit more in indecision before blurting, nearly forty seconds too late, "One of my first."

Oliver cocked his head to the side slightly, frowning. "Oh." He blinked, realizing she was responding. "Oh, yeah."

However, as the game went on, Oliver began narrating the actions in a rather charming and hilarious manner, bringing tears of laughter to Katie's eyes and little shrieks of mirth from her mouth. She soon began adding her own narration until they were both laughing so hard they'd basically given up on the game. There was one Pawn in particular that didn't much appreciate their antics and huffily stalked off the board in a fit, only causing them to clutch their stomachs and shake harder with laughter.

Several students, Hermione Granger in particular, cast a few dirty looks their way until she finally hissed, "People are trying to _study_ you know!" which reminded Oliver that he really needed to finish his homework, too, and Katie remembered she had to do some reading for History of Magic the next day and so they bid each other goodnight and turned to their books, casting mischievous glances at one another every now and then and bursting into the occasional fit of snorting.

- - -

The next night Katie decided she could no longer put off and avoid Jason, however much she wanted to, and so agreed to meet him after dinner in the hallway off the Gryffindor common room.

As she was headed down the hallway, though, Oliver grabbed her sleeve as she passed. "Wait, where are you going?" he asked.

"I just have someone I need to talk to." She jiggled her arm a bit, as if to shake him off.

"Well, I was counting on you coming to the team meeting I called." Oliver looked at her with something that was almost a glare. Here he went with the whole Quidditch team dedication spiel.

"Yes, _well,_ I won't be there right away. Angelina or Alicia can fill me in if I don't make it at all."

"You're planning on being gone that long?" Oliver arched a thick eyebrow.

"I don't know." Katie jerked her arm out of his grasp. "We'll just have to find out how long I'm going to be when I get back."

Oliver narrowed his eyes for a brief moment. "Katie," he started, using an almost admonishing tone, "Just be careful. I don't who it is you're going to see, but… really, Bell."

"Thanks," she threw over her shoulder as she practically flounced away.

Oliver ran a hand through his short hair with a sigh. He rolled his eyes and continued down the hallway to meet up with the others.

- - -

"Katie," Jason said, starting toward her as soon as he saw her. "I was just wondering if you were going to show up."

She nodded. _Me, too_, she thought. "Right, well, I'm here now. And we need to talk." What was that rubbish coming out of her mouth? _We need to talk_! She sounded like one of those awful day shows her mum sometimes put on while washing the dishes.

"Talk?"

"Well, I certainly wasn't going to say we need to bonk!" Katie blurted and immediately slapped a hand over her mouth. "Sorry," she said from behind her palm, her voice muffled. Jason looked surprised.

"Well, I wasn't going to suggest that, either!" He sounded almost scandalized. "Only I didn't know we were having anything to talk about."

Katie lowered her hand and looked away for a moment. "Right. Well. There isn't really a 'we' here, Jason. No 'us'. There's 'you' and 'me' but as two entirely separate people." She sighed, exasperated. "I'm trying to do this well, but it's actually rather difficult. I want you to stop sending me owls and such, asking me to sit with you and so on because I don't really want to. I have my friends and you have your friends and we should not try to breach the gap and be anything."

Jason looked a little hurt and he was blushing furiously. "I – I well, I never thought…" he stammered. "I was only just – trying to – to – get to know you. I never wanted to, you know, bother you."

Well, didn't _she_ feel like a right piece of squitty little dumpling. They stared at one another for a moment before Jason broke eye contact and looked at his feet, scuffing his toe against the stone of the floor.

"I guess… I thought you liked me back."

Katie chewed the inside of her lip, working it until she tasted the salty warmth of blood in her mouth. She stopped chewing immediately. "Oh."

"Is that all you have to say? _Oh?_ That's all I get for my efforts, my embarrassment, rejection, and humiliation? _OH?_" Jason raised his voice, irritated now that he had seemingly been made a fool of. "Well _that's_ just right fine of you!"

"I _said_ I didn't know how to go about this!" Katie shot back. "Think you could be a bit more understanding."

"Oh, really, well I think that's just immature of you to expect me to act like the only adult and take responsibility for your poor social skills."

So what if she had poor social skills? "I don't have poor social skills!" Katie exclaimed, heat brushing across her cheeks like fire because he was kind of right. Her mother was always talking to her about that. "You're nearly seventeen now, Katie, you've got to learn what's acceptable. There are a few rules on how to go about certain things…" Of course Katie would always get snappish and huffy and her mum would roll her eyes and try anyway, but really, it just ended in arguments.

Jason was glaring at her. "Well they're not exactly outstanding, either."

Katie glowered darkly and shuffled her feet a bit. Bugger. "Well, anyhow, I'm _sorry_ I hurt your _feelings_ and that I don't have outstanding social skills. I'm working on that, just for your information."

"Well, _good._" Jason folded his arms and looked like he was about to toss his nose in the air but paused and a moment later cocked his head and studied her for a moment. "So… would you be willing to give us another go, then?"

"No."

"Well, anyway, I probably won't start dating exclusively so if you ever change your mind I'll still be around, then." He waited for her curt nod before he turned and made his way up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room.

After he was out of sight and the sound of his footsteps had echoed away, Katie shivered a bit and rubbed her arms. The hallways certainly got a bit drafty in the evening. Or maybe she was just disappointed and angry with herself because she wasn't a social butterfly and she couldn't seem to find a boy that liked her and _she_ liked, too… or vice versa.

She leaned against the wall and slid down slowly, her back pressed against the cool stone as she brought her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs.

The truth was she _was_ almost seventeen. That meant she was almost an adult in the Wizarding world. And she hadn't even gotten her first kiss. She always thought _When you're sixteen, that's when you'll get it. Sixteen is the year things like that are supposed to happen._ Ever since Fourth Year she'd told herself that. Of course, at that time she had her eyes on a couple of boys at Hogwarts and when she went home for Christmas she couldn't help but hope a little that she and the cute neighbor boy would somehow end up under the mistletoe… or that on New Year's Eve she'd get a quick kiss on the lips to celebrate. But it never happened. And now she only had about a month to find the right boy – one who was smart, funny, motivated, loyal, and passionate about something…

"Katie?"

She jerked her head up at the sound of someone calling her name. The candles in the sconces flickered, casting eerie shadows on the wall. It was a little bit scary, actually.

"Katie, is that you?" Oliver appeared around the corner and Katie let out a little breath of relief. "You all right?" he asked, crouching down beside her and looking her in the eyes. She hadn't noticed before, but it turned out she had started crying a bit. Stupid leaky eyes.

"Did I miss the meeting?" she asked stuffily, wiping the back of her hand over her eyes hurriedly.

"Yes, but are you okay? Are you _crying?_" He leaned in closer, peering at her face.

She could feel his warm breath on her cheek and thought how he looked so concerned and suddenly, for a reason unbeknownst to her, she bawled out loud, "I don't have long. I – I'm running out of time!"

A cold wave of shock hit Oliver in a full body punch. He was suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

Was Katie dying? Did she have some sort of terminal disease?

"What do you mean?" he asked, fighting to stay calm. She turned suddenly and clutched at his robes as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"Uh. Hush now," Oliver said giving her an awkward pat on the back. "Hush, nothing to cry about. Unless you're dying. Are you dying?"

She shook her head and howled something but it was muffled because her face was still buried. Another wave hit Oliver, but this time it was one of relief. However, he was still finding it hard to breathe – though admittedly, for entirely different reasons.

"Why did you come find me?" she asked thickly, pulling her face away from his shoulder to wipe at her nose with her sleeve.

"Well, Knowler came stomping into the common room and I just wondered if maybe it was him you had gone to see and I – we all got a bit worried about you. Alicia said you'd been getting owls from him."

"Oh, yeah. That. Well, no, we're over now." Katie sniffled a little.

Oliver felt something rather pleasant surge through his chest but decided not to think about the source or reason and instead mentioned some gibberish about needing to head back to the common room so they wouldn't get caught by Filch who would probably think they were snogging madly and feeling each other up. Which made him a bit embarrassed, because then Katie would probably think he was thinking about snogging her madly and feeling her up.

- - -

Thanks for reading – let me know what you think by leaving a review! I appreciate them so much.


	8. Of Confusion and Letters

**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter series – she's the genius, and I'm just a fan who likes to play.

**Author's Note: **I feel just hideous that this took me _so _long to get out. Hideous, really. And if you want the honest truth, most of this chapter wasn't even written for this story. However, the first part just happened and the second part I liked and so fit it in. But really, this wasn't supposed to happen at all. Let me know how this chapter ranks with the others – feedback is supreme and I love reviews. Furthermore, I forgot to mention this in chapter seven: The line I used that says "He had growing suspicions that it was just another in a long line of bad days." was inspired by Marcy Playground's song "Sleepy Eyes" in which the lyrics are "And I wake up to a cold day/Just another in a long line of cold days." Those lyrics belong to Marcy Playground and more specifically, John Wozniak. I have no intention of copyright infringement or stealing their work or anything. It's not mine – it's theirs.

**Of Love and Quidditch**

Chapter Eight: _Of Confusion and Letters_

Oliver bit down hard on his lip, contemplating. His sketch of new Quidditch strategies, spread out on parchment before him, was blurred and smeared from erasing and writing notes along the margins, cramped, spiky words that no one else would be able to read and that he himself probably wouldn't be able to decipher later, either.

He had been hunched over the table for what felt like hours, his back knotting and pinching, his neck burning and his fingers darkened with ink. The common room was still quite full, students laughing and chatting – always laughing and chatting – was he the only one who never did? No, there was Hermione. Oliver raised his head and scanned the room.

Ah, no. Even Hermione laughed. Actually, at the moment, she was sitting with Harry and Ron, red in the face, her eyes squeezed shut, clutching her stomach, nearly howling with laughter. Oliver corrected himself. It wasn't that he _didn't_ laugh; it was just that he seemed to do it so much less than everyone else. And everyone else seemed to be at least marginally happier than he was. _All those endorphins_, he thought bitterly. _Flooding their systems and making them giddy. Bloody teenagers_. At which point he realised how stupid he sounded, even inside his own head, like a sour old codger that might bumble about the kitchen dropping crumbs and wondering where he left his glasses, angry that the neighbour kids stole apples off his tree. Oliver really didn't want to sound like that. He thought perhaps the others were right; he should stop taking Quidditch so seriously and think about other things… but that made him cringe inside. Forget about Quidditch? Never.

"Oh, come on Oliver, you'll never get a girlfriend _that_ way!"

Oliver jerked his head up and focused on Katie, her hand on her hip, a playful smile tugging at her mouth, though she tried to hide it.

"What way?" he asked.

"Scowling in the corner all by your lonesome, your nose pressed against a piece of parchment. And even if you _do_ manage to get a girlfriend, you'll never be able to keep a wife."

"Harsh," Oliver said, but secretly thought she might be right.

"Yes, well, it has to be said." Katie pulled out the chair across from him and sat down, folding her arms on the table and leaning forward. She stared straight at him and nodded a few times, raising her eyebrows and widening her dark brown eyes in an encouraging and concerned manner. "And how does that make you feel?" she asked, putting on her psychiatrist voice. Oliver kicked her foot under the table.

"Oh, hush up, you silly goose."

Katie raised her eyebrow. "I'm not entirely sure I've ever heard _that_ one from you."

Oliver's face flamed with heat. "Yes, well, I was kidding," he mumbled.

"No, it's sort of cute. Old fashioned phrases my mother uses – coming from you."

Oliver's face flushed again, but not because of embarrassment. A rather pleasant feeling of warmth spread over his entire body, settling in his chest. "Oh," was all he managed.

"So, Quidditch?" Katie asked and tugged the paper away from him. "You should stop for tonight. Make an appearance in the real world, hey?" she suggested, eyeing his scribbles. "Not that it's not important," she said hurriedly, even though he had made no move to object. "Just that we don't see much of you outside of Quidditch."

"That's true," he said and Katie fell silent for a moment, startled that he agreed and admitted it.

- - -

Later, as Katie ran over the conversation she and Oliver had had earlier, she was horrified to think that maybe it sounded like she was flirting. Flirting? With _Oliver_? It seemed like it should have been the last thing in the world to happen. Okay, well, not the _last _thing. Her marrying Neville would probably take that spot. But still, it was highly unlikely. And it was an unconscious sort of thing as well. Almost as if – she cringed – she just couldn't _help_ herself!

- - -

The next afternoon during Quidditch practise, Katie was horrified to find herself smiling at Oliver constantly. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. Her heart actually sped faster when he flew his broom up beside hers and he leaned in to whisper something witty about how Fred and Angelina would soon decide to play on one broom just so they could be closer. Katie noticed he smelled _won_derful, like grass and sweat and broom and detergent, because his clothes had just been washed. She wanted grab him by the arms and bury her face in his shoulder, feeling his solid Oliver-y warmth and breathing in that smell, memorizing it so she could have it anytime.

Her game was seriously off that afternoon. She was completely distracted and when Oliver asked her about it afterward as they walked back toward the castle, their brooms slung over their shoulders, she almost threw up because she didn't quite understand the feelings that had bombarded her, ambushed her suddenly and without warning. Not only that, but he sounded concerned – not that they'd lose the match – but that something was going on in her life that upset her or bothered her. He had purposely walked alongside her, letting the others get a bit ahead of them before asking quietly if something was wrong, he noticed she wasn't having the best time of practise. It made Katie feel as if she were the only person in the world because he had taken the time to notice something was off and cared enough to find out about it.

She couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth. Instead, she prayed it would pass and he would go back to being Just Oliver and not Distracting Oliver. It was just a phase, she told herself over and over and over again, all the while thinking about him.

- - -

Later that evening, Katie went up to the dorms with every intention of writing a letter to her parents. However, after she started writing, she couldn't stop. Instead of everyday pleasantries, it turned out much differently.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_Things are just swell here. I was complete rubbish at Quidditch practise today, but only because I couldn't keep my mind on the game. I wasn't focusing. Well, I was focusing, just not on the game. I was focusing on the captain. He's really nice. I think you'd like him. Dad, maybe not so much, but you wouldn't like anyone, really. But that's okay because it's likely you'll never meet him. But I've been thinking about him constantly since last night. Oliver this, Oliver that… Oliver and I… Katie Wood… (Just to try it out). You'll be happy to hear I have so far refrained from doodling his name. Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver… better not do that too much, or it might lose meaning. It's all very sudden and I don't know what's come over me. I'm sure I don't _like_ him like him. How could I? We're just friends! I hope this doesn't last long, because it's very confusing._

_Anyhow… how are things for you? Hope the weather's good. Miss you._

_Love,_

_Katie_

She wasn't going to send it, of course. This wasn't the kind of letter you sent to your Mum and Dad. This was the kind you either tore up and threw into the fireplace, or stapled into your diary. Fireplace was safer, but she'd have to make sure it really burned completely. Not that anyone would be digging through ashes looking for all the secrets and details of her love life, but still… she had pride. She could pretend.

She made her way down the stairs and was surprised to find the common room dark, except for the glow from the fire. Apparently she had taken more time writing than she'd thought. She shrugged and knelt on the hearth, re-reading the letter one last time. Yes, she definitely had to burn this.

"What are you doing?"

She shrieked, crumpling the paper in her palm.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you." A light flicked on.

"_Oliver_," she scolded, trying to catch her breath and gather her wits.

"I said sorry," he mumbled, looking sheepish.

"Well," she huffed. "Apology accepted."

He brightened, a mischievous smile tugging at his mouth. _And what a nice mouth_, Katie thought. She blushed, biting her lip.

"And just what is that in your hand, Miss Bell?"

"Nothing. It's paper."

"And what's _on_ the paper, then?"

"Ink."

Oliver laughed. "Is it a love letter, Miss Bell?" Katie clutched the paper tighter in her hand.

"Don't make fun," she said.

He looked surprised. "So it _is_ a love letter?"

"_No!_ I didn't say that. It's a letter to my mum and dad."

"Why are you burning it?"

"Why are you being so nosy?" she shot back.

"Just curious. Do you tell them all the happenings at Hogwarts?"

"Sometimes."

"And what are the happenings this week?"

Katie was silent, looking thoughtful. "I'm gossiping," she whispered finally, unable to resist his playful, teasing mood. Oliver leaned closer.

"What?"

"I said, I'm gossiping."

"And whom are you gossiping about?"

"Everyone."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I'm telling them about all the eye-catching boys and all the best dressed girls and who got their hair cut and who's letting theirs grow out…"

"All the eye-catching boys? Who are they?"

"That you don't get to know," Katie said primly. Oliver lunged suddenly, trying to pry her fingers off the parchment.

"No!" she shrieked, laughing as he tickled her with one hand and fought for the paper with the other. "No, Oliver, don't," she said as he managed to loosen her grip on it. "It's just silly… just silly nothing stuff that –" she interrupted herself with laughter. He'd almost pried it out of her hand when she slapped him across the face. He pulled away, a red mark forming on his cheek. Katie put a hand to her mouth.

"Oh, Lord. I'm so sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry – I just – you couldn't - you absolutely _couldn't_ read this."

"No, no, I'm sorry," Oliver said. "It wasn't my place. It was all in good heart, though. I thought you weren't serious."

"Oh. Yes, well. Does that hurt?" She pointed to his cheek.

He laughed. "Quite a bloody lot, yes. You've got a mean slap in you."

"Yes. I see that. Sorry, again." She bit her lip.

_It's just a phase, _she told herself. _Just a phase._

- - -

Review, please!


	9. Of Fluff and Astronomy

**Disclaimer: **Well by golly, I sure didn't invent the Harry Potter world. J.K. Rowling did. I just came up with this story.

**Author's Note**: I'm pretty much the coolest person right now, seeing as how I didn't take forever and a year to get this chapter up. The applause is deafening. I made up the bit about Verit and the names of the stars… so, yeah. Reviewer Responses on my profile page, for those who care. Feedback is a-w-e-s-o-m-e and um… I reply sporadically. To keep the element of surprise, you know. ; )

**Of Love and Quidditch**

Chapter Nine: _Of Fluff and Astronomy_

Katie didn't cry often, and she especially tried not to cry in front of others. Even though her behaviour the previous few weeks questioned that – the whole Oliver fiasco, crying in the hallway and what-not – however, when Professor Sinistra refused point blank to extend the due date on the advanced astronomy chart, Katie found herself near tears. _No _she hadn't started on it yet but _yes_ the rest of her life was also busy. The fact that they were standing in the middle of the hallway just outside Professor Sinistra's office made it a little worse as well.

"But I'm really trying to keep up with my other classes, Professor, and –" Katie broke off when Sinistra shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Miss Bell, but I gave the entire class weeks to work on this. I do sympathise, but I won't be extending the due date."

"I understand your position; I really do, but please try and understand my position, Professor. My parents won't let me play Quidditch if I don't do well in my courses and I really _have_ been putting effort into my classes –" Katie wrung her hands as she spoke, "and I know you said if I don't get this advanced chart done by the due date I likely won't do well in the class. Astronomy is one of the hardest subjects for me – I have trouble with it… I've been meeting with other students to try and help me understand –" she mentally promised to actually do that later, "and I'm just so scared because I really, _really_ can't give up Quidditch and I want to please my parents so badly and I- I – I –" her breath hitched in her throat and her eyes stung, little needles of salt prickling.

"Oh, Miss Bell," Sinistra said on a regretful sigh. "I want you to do well, too. You're a wonderful Quidditch player and it clearly means a lot to you. I can't change the due date, I'm sorry. You are more than welcome to come to my office during your free time and I can try and help you understand. But I really can't change anything."

Katie bit down hard on her lip and nodded. "I understand."

- - -

Later, during lunch, an owl swooped toward Katie and fluttered down to land beside her plate. There was an envelope attached to his leg and Katie carefully removed it, recognising the handwriting as her mother's. She broke the little wax seal and slid out the letter. As she read, her shoulders slowly drooped and she hunched over with each passing second. When she finished, she swallowed hard and pushed her plate away from her, resting her face in her hands.

"Katie, what's wrong?" Alicia asked, frowning and reaching out her hand to rest it on her friend's shoulder. Katie shook her head.

"I can't talk about it right now."

- - -

Quidditch practise was harrowing and tiresome. The air was heavy and muggy, the brooms inexplicably sluggish.

Oliver mopped his hand over his brow and sighed heavily. They were literally _one week_ away from the match and this was how they practised? He tried to be patient, he really did. People were dropping the Quaffle left and right, Angelina snapped at Fred and Fred snapped back, which irritated Oliver because they shouldn't be having their bloody lover's quarrel on the pitch, _during practise. _Alicia literally hadn't scored one single goal since the start, Harry was frittering off on his broom and Oliver expected he wasn't putting too much energy into looking for the Snitch, George wasn't doing anything particularly annoying, and Katie was mopey, tense, and disinterested in the game. They'd been out for two and a half hours and when it started to rain, Oliver thought they should press on for the last half hour. Even though everyone agreed – grudgingly – to go on, it took a sour turn.

Katie dropped the Quaffle and it was the last straw on the camel's back. Wood exploded, calling everyone to the ground.

"We won't have room for those kinds of mistakes at the match, Bell!" he yelled, stalking over to her.

"Well, this isn't the _match_, Oliver!" she yelled back, going red in the face. "And I'm _tired_ and _cold_ and you might bloody well let us have a night off. We all like the game, Wood, but we're not married to it! We don't have to come home to it _every night._"

Oliver went very still. Everyone was quiet, waiting. "Then go in," he said finally, very quietly.

"Oh, _bah,_" Katie spat and stomped off to the changing rooms, her hands balled into fists.

"We should probably all go in, actually," Harry suggested meekly. "It _is_ getting kind of dark…"

But Oliver wasn't listening. He was watching Katie go, a muscle in his jaw twitching. His hand spasmed and he gripped his broom handle tighter before throwing it over his shoulder and heading toward the castle without a word to anyone.

"I think he forgot we were here," Fred said mildly, sneaking a glance at Angelina, who was shaking her head.

"That boy," she said, but didn't add anything else.

- - -

As Oliver stalked toward the castle, he decided that he and Katie had been having entirely too many arguments lately and he would just sit down with her and _talk_ about it.

He shoved his broom into his locker and peeled off his leather gloves, tossing them into the locker as well. He pulled off his Quidditch boots and set them at the bottom of the locker before slamming the door on it.

"Katie?" he called, but heard no reply. Maybe she had left already? She wasn't in the locker room. Wondering if she was honestly angry and hoping she wasn't, he ventured over toward the girls' showers. There wasn't any sound coming from over there, so she likely wasn't around – she'd probably stormed off up to the common room. He peeked his head in anyway, just to check. "Katie?" he called again. There was still no answer.

Just then, Katie stepped out of one of the small changing rooms wearing nothing but a towel. She shrieked when she saw Oliver, using one hand to clutch the towel tighter and the other to flap wildly in a shooing motion. "Out! Go!"

Oliver slapped his hands over his eyes, even though he couldn't see anything. "I was calling your name," he said. "You didn't answer."

"I was _ignoring_ you!" she shrilled. "Go!"

"Sorry! Sorry! Okay! I'm going!"

"God!" Katie said.

As he left, Oliver called over his shoulder, "We still need to talk, Bell, so don't sneak off to bed without seeing me first."

As he stepped out of the girls' shower room, he turned to face forward and saw the rest of the team gawking at him, mouths open.

"What?" he asked.

"'Don't sneak off to bed without seeing me first'?" George repeated and smirked.

Oliver's face burned red, like a coil of hot iron. "I didn't mean it like – like that," he said.

"And what were you doing in the girls' shower room with Bell?" Fred added. "Is that allowed now? Because –" he broke off when Angelina elbowed him.

"It's not what you think," Oliver muttered and shuffled hurriedly, embarrassedly, from the room.

"Oh, isn't it now?" George called after him and the small group fell to laughing.

- - -

"Sorry about earlier," Oliver said sheepishly, sitting with Katie in the empty common room. She sniffed primly.

"I don't even remember what happened."

There was silence and then they both laughed, the tension easing away a little.

"I'm sorry I blew up during practise today, too. That was just… stupid of me."

Katie shrugged one shoulder and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "I wasn't playing well. I've been really, really… just upset, I guess."

"What about?"

Katie bit her lip and Oliver couldn't help but let his eyes drift to her white teeth pressing into her lower lip, practically an invitation. "Well," she said and his eyes snapped to hers again. "I've got this Astronomy project due really soon – I think I mentioned it before, awhile ago? And well, Professor Sinistra sort of hinted that if I missed another assignment I'd probably fail the class… and my parents will be burning mad if I do... and I'll have to take it over, you know." She winced. "My parents won't let me play Quidditch if I fail another class." She swallowed hard and looked away. "It's just a –" she pressed her palms into her eyes, "just a really bad time right now. My cat died. I got a letter from my Mum this morning. He died. I didn't get to say goodbye. I don't think I was even nice to him the last time I saw him. I think I shoved him off my bed." She started crying again. "It's just a really bad time right now," she repeated.

Suddenly, Oliver had enveloped her in a hug and Katie felt something surge through her, something that felt like comfort and safety and home. She buried her face in the crook between his neck and collarbone and wrapped her arms around his back.

"Bad times all pass eventually," he said quietly, to which Katie had no reply because it seemed like it had been quite long enough and bad times should have packed up on moved on several times over. "When is this hideous project of yours due?"

"Two days," she sniffled into his shoulder.

"What say you we go up to the Astronomy tower and work on it tonight? Get the tricky little bastard done with."

Katie pulled away, her eyes slightly red. "You would really? Oh, Oliver, I would be so – that would be so – yes! Thank you!" She leapt up, scrambling to pack her papers into her book bag.

- - -

Oliver rubbed his hand over his eyes, fighting to stay awake. "Right. That's Jecklys. Good."

Katie was hunched over a large scroll of parchment, scratching Jecklys into its proper place. "Bloody buggering little star," she muttered, jabbing her quill into her ink well once more. "There's far too many, far too many for anyone's good."

"Hear, hear," Oliver said and pointed to the parchment. "Missed one."

"Where?"

"See that one?" Oliver pointed up at one of the many small, glowing stars hanging like Christmas ornaments in the sky. "That's Verit's Orb… and it's going to go…" he paused, finding his place on the chart sketched out on Katie's parchment, "Right here, next to Jecklys… does that make sense?" He caught her eyes for a moment, but his gaze slid away. "See where they are in relation to the moon? It transfers to the chart pretty similarly. You do the next one, starting with Fopps."

"Do you know the story behind Verit's Orb?" Katie asked, hunting on her parchment for the right degrees to place Fopps. When Oliver said he didn't, she began explaining. "Well, Verit was this wizard who lived way back when and didn't have toilet paper or anything –" when she said this, Oliver laughed, "and he lived in an itty bitty town and one day there was a beautiful Muggle girl travelling through with her family. Verit fell immediately in love with her and wanted to marry her, so on so forth. But he insisted on being absolutely honest with her. However, the people in that town were very much all about the separation of magical people and Muggle people. It was a crime to let a Muggle in on their little secret. So, when Verit told the Muggle girl that he was a Wizard, the town government found out and had him sentenced to die. So, in a fit of romanticism and as his last act, Verit did some very tricky magic and sent up a very shiny, large orb just for his Muggle girlfriend. So she could look to the sky and always remember him, you see. Anyhow, Verit was killed the next day and the government performed a memory charm on the Muggle girl and she forgot all about Verit anyway, because his orb was just another star to her. So Verit's brother lived a very quiet life, laying low, and kept the story alive," Katie finished, making a very decisive mark on her parchment and turning her face up to look at Oliver.

"Oh," he said. "Poor bloke." He paused a second. "Katie –" he started, but didn't finish because he didn't know how to go about saying what it was he wanted to say.

"What?"

Oliver made a little sound at the back of his throat before deciding on, "You've got some ink on your face." He reached out and gently wiped it off her cheek with his thumb. "Got it."

They worked late into the night, midnight creeping past to one o' clock and one-thirty, but eventually they finished, Katie doing most of the plotting. Oliver would suggest the next step and correct minor errors.

Katie slumped down in her chair with a heavy sigh. She rested her fist against her temple and looked at their work. "It's not bad," she decided.

"No, you did great…" he yawned. "If you want, I can fix it so they look like real stars." He indicated the black dots speckling the parchment.

"Mmhm," Katie breathed, her eyes closing slowly as she began to nod off. Oliver pulled his wand from his robe and pointed it at the chart, murmuring the spell to himself. A silvery glitter flowed from the tip of his wand and spread across the parchment, shimmering and then dissipating slowly, leaving the parchment a rich, dark indigo and the stars a blinking, shifting, silver light.

The light cast a soft glow on Katie's face and Oliver sighed, seeing how tired she looked. Maybe he had been too harsh with their practice schedules… he shouldn't have put his team through that. And Katie barely got the astronomy chart done in time to turn it in… what kind of a captain _was_ he? A thick guilt wrapped itself around him and he sat heavily in his chair. Maybe he'd been making all the wrong decisions. He should've been thinking more about the team and not about the game. More about the people – about his… friends.

He shook his head, disappointed with himself, and began carefully and quietly rolling up the Astronomy chart. He tucked it into Katie's book bag and stood. "Katie," he whispered and shook her shoulder gently. "Katie, wake up. You can go to sleep in a minute." He shook her again. Her eyes opened and she jerked a little.

"I fell asleep?" she asked, slowly rising to her feet.

Oliver slung the book bag over his shoulder and nodded. "Come on. Let's go back to the common room."

She followed him down the flight of stairs from the Astronomy Tower, each of them trying to be quiet because they were out far past curfew. If Filch found them, he'd skin them alive.

"Oliver," she whispered, touching her hand to his shoulder. He stopped on the stairs and turned.

"Yes?" he whispered back, noticing they were very close and face to face

because the stairs levelled their height.

"Thanks," Katie said. "For doing this."

"Can't lose one of my best players, can I?" Oliver responded and started down the stairs once more.

- - -

"'Night, Katie," Oliver said, handing her book bag to her and turning to make his way to the boys' dorms.

"Wait!" she said and he turned back, his heart beating a little faster. "Thank you, again. You've got no idea how much stress this was causing me." She was hugging him suddenly, her arms wrapped around his neck, her body close to his. "You're the best captain ever, and not just because of this. But because you are." Her breath was warm and light against his neck and it sent a chill down his spine. He tried to ignore how good it felt – and the reasons he suspected it felt good. His arms unconsciously tightened around her and he breathed deeply, loving the feel of her so close to him and hating to admit it. He pulled away before he could say something stupid.

"Good night, Katie. Sleep well. Rest up, eh?"

_It's just a phase, _he told himself.

- - -

Review, please, I love them! They make my day! I am hinting very strongly! Thanks.


	10. Of ExBoyfriends and Broken Ribs

**Disclaimer: **Despite my best efforts, I still don't own _Harry Potter_.

**Author's Note: **Okay, so, it's been like four years since I've updated this story, which is crazy. I was going through some old documents, though, and realized I had a large chunk of the last few chapters already written and thought I should finish it. Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed over the years, you're amazing!

---

**Of Love and Quidditch**

_Chapter 10: Of Ex-Boyfriends and Broken Ribs_

---

Katie and Oliver didn't see much of one another for the rest of that week. Katie was busy scrambling to finish other homework assignments (though now that she'd turned in her Astronomy project she was, in general, much more pleasant) and Oliver was brainstorming furiously in all his free time, trying to come up with even more Quidditch strategies.

Oliver had scheduled a few more practises, but rarely got a chance to say more than hello to Katie. At their last practise before the match against Slytherin, Katie was having a hard time controlling the Quaffle. Alicia and Angelina, playing as members of an opposing team, had no problem getting it away from her and scoring. Oliver scrubbed his hands through his hair, trying to hide his frustration.

At the end of the practise, he fell in step beside Katie and said, "Something's still wrong. Beyond the Astronomy project."

Katie covered her face in her hands. "I know, today was awful, I'm sorry. I've just been out of it."

"That's okay," Oliver said, "but you have to be totally present during the match. Where's the fierce Katie that I know and love?"

She looked up at him then. "I think she went on holiday."

"Here's a tip: during the match, get yourself worked up by thinking about an ex-boyfriend and something that he did to really piss you off. Then, channel that energy into your game."

"I don't have any ex-boyfriends," Katie blurted. "I've never even been kissed. And I'm almost seventeen."

Oliver was silent for a long moment, casting a glance at her, looking reluctantly curious. Then he shrugged and looked away, saying lightly, "Then get pissed off that you've never been kissed and channel _that_ into your game."

---

Soon it was the morning of the big match, the one they had all been sweating blood over. Tension was running high at the Gryffindor table, and Oliver was practically crackling with nervous energy. He hovered over Harry first, watching him pick at his food.

"Eat, Harry, old boy. You need your energy. Big game today."

"Oh, right, I'd forgotten. How silly of me," Harry replied and rolled his eyes, spearing a forkful of pancakes. Oliver slapped him on the back.

"We'll be fine. We'll be just _fine._" Harry got the impression Oliver wasn't really talking to him anymore, even though it appeared that way. After another slap on the back that caused Harry to nearly choke on his pancakes, Oliver left to bother the twins.

"Feeling good, George? Fred?" he asked.

"Sensational," Fred said.

"Superb," George added. "Sparkling. You, Wood?"

"Sick," Oliver said with a nod of his head. Fred leaned away from Oliver warily.

"Just _how_ sick? Blow-any-second-sick, or not-quite-sick-enough-to-throw-up-on-Fred-sick?"

Oliver looked like he was about to reply but snapped his mouth shut and spun on his heel, heading out of the Great Hall.

"Mm," George said. "Kind of a combination. Nice of him, though, not to hurl on us."

"Quite," Fred agreed, watching Oliver push his way towards the doors.

Oliver prayed he would make it to the bathrooms. It wouldn't do to hurl in front of everyone right before the biggest match of his life.

"Looking a bit jittery there, Wood!" Colin called, adjusting his camera. "Can I get a picture?"

Oliver spared a glance for Creevey but didn't slow. "No. I'm going to be sick."

He shoved through the doors and raced to the nearest boys' bathroom, where he gratefully fell to his knees, retching from nervousness and maybe just a little bit of fear.

What if he didn't win? What if he just completely failed? What if his team _never_ won the Quidditch Cup? What would that say about him as a captain?

Honestly, when Oliver Wood threw up, he was too busy to think about bigger things, like what other people would say if Gryffindor lost.

- - - -

Out on the Quidditch pitch, the air was crisp, the sun was bright and the sky was blue. The ground was perfect for kicking off and as Oliver flew to his goalposts, he felt for a moment as if this were just another day, just another game.

But it wasn't. It was _the_ defining game of his life at Hogwarts. If they lost this, he had nothing. If they won, people might just remember him as "Oliver Wood, the captain that got away…" or, more realistically, "Oliver Wood, the bloke who inevitably graduated because it was his Seventh Year, but _damn_ I wish I'd been on his team!" Ideally, it would be "Remember Oliver Wood? Remember that game when they won gloriously? Victoriously? Triumphoriously? He was _captain._" He was also going to have to work for this victorious triumph he set his sights on, because Slytherin was looking particularly pumped up and ready to play, their faces set in determined scowls.

As soon as Madam Hooch blew the whistle, it was clear Slytherin had been practicing – _a lot._ Their flying was superb, their formations were tight and well-crafted, and their Seeker – Draco Malfoy – was already scanning the field non-stop for any sign of the Snitch, hunched over his broom handle ready to dive at a split seconds notice.

Oliver checked on Harry's position. He was doing much the same as Malfoy, but his eyes were moving faster and his flying was, as expected, better.

_Good, Potter. Keep it up,_ Oliver thought, hovering his broom, ready for the first shot from Slytherin.

All the hard practise had paid off because Gryffindor was flying in top form. All three Chasers dodged and weaved and zipped around the field as though they'd been born on broomsticks. Fred and George had never hit Bludgers so powerfully or with such precise aim. Harry had always been a good Seeker, but the determination on his face was enough to warm the cockles of Oliver's heart.

Despite the quality of their game, the match was turning out to be longer than Oliver had anticipated; the Slytherins were playing up their strengths in all the right ways and proved to be an equal match. Forty minutes in and still no one had caught the Snitch and the scores were ridiculously close.

Sweat beaded on Oliver's temple and his back was already feeling tight from lunging in front of the hoops to keep the Quaffle out. The worst moment came when, from halfway across the field, he saw a Bludger speeding toward an oblivious Katie.

Oliver shouted, "Bell! Duck!" He watched to make sure Katie plastered herself against her broom handle before turning his attention back to the game. He wasn't soon enough.

The second Bludger was hurtling toward him and before he could react, it had punched into his ribs. The air was knocked out of him and he nearly fell off his broom, at the last moment catching at the handle before he could be unseated.

"Oliver!" Katie shouted, urging her broom toward him.

He shook his head and waved his hand for her to go back. "Continue play," he shouted, sending a sharp pain through his side. "Bloody fucking hell," he cursed quietly, pressing his hand to the spot.

"Oliver, what's wrong?" Katie asked, pulling her broom close enough for them to talk without shouting.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Don't you ever _listen?_"

"Yes."

"I said _continue play,_ Bell." He winced again.

"Is your rib broken? I'm telling Madam Hooch –"

"Katie, _no._ We have to win this game _now._ Please."

Something in his eyes must have made her nod once, sharply. She twisted her broom and sped away from him.

It was all over soon enough, but not before Oliver had to make three saves, which turned out to be extremely painful.

Harry caught the Golden Snitch, though, winning the game with a beautiful score – 180 to 100 – and the crowd went wild.

Everyone beat Oliver on the back as Dumbledore presented the cup with a sort of discreet, but fierce pride in his twinkling eyes. Oliver beamed at everyone, accepted the trophy, and collapsed in a dead faint.

"I knew that boy should have eaten breakfast," Angelina said, shaking her head.

---

**Author's Note:** Reviews are always appreciated! I will be updating again very soon. Like, for reals.


	11. Of Endings and Beginnings

**Disclaimer: **Yeah, I still don't own it, so...

**Author's Note: **I'm ashamed that this story took me five years. That's embarrassing. But I am proud it's finished.

---

**Of Love and Quidditch**

_Chapter 11: Of Endings and Beginnings_

---

Oliver could sense them all standing there waiting. But how could he face them? He'd fainted. Not exactly the image he wanted to project, and not exactly a story he wanted told throughout the halls of Hogwarts. _Remember Oliver Wood? Yeah, the bloke who fainted…_

"His eyelids are moving," someone said, probably Fred.

"Oh, he's definitely awake," George agreed.

"Not too keen on showing those beautiful eyes of yours after that less than masculine stunt you pulled, then, Wood?" Fred asked and Oliver could hear the teasing grin in his voice. He pretended he was still out cold. Let them taunt.

"Hey," a girl's voice said, defending him. Katie. That had to be Katie. Such a nice voice she had. Someone sat down next to him. He could feel the mattress shifting and denting slightly. Had Katie sat beside him? Was she going to grasp his hand and… and what?

No one grasped his hand anyway, so that little jaunt into Fantasy Land obviously wasn't going to be realized.

"Does Madam Pomfrey know he broke a rib, too?" Katie asked. Oliver winced, waiting for Madam Pomfrey's shriek and scolding about _why_ had no one _told_ her?

"Oh, look at _that,_" Fred said. "There's no use pretending now, Oliver… we all saw you move." He lowered his voice, "Don't worry, though, Pomfrey stepped out for a word with Dumbledore. And yes, Katie, Pomfrey knows about the ribs. Yes, plural."

Oliver opened his eyes to the unpleasant shock of finding George Weasely sitting beside him on the mattress, his face uncomfortably close to Oliver's, scrutinizing him. George winked and stood up.

"Katie," he said looking over his shoulder. "You haven't said a proper thanks to your hero for saving your ribs by sacrificing his own."

A flush rose to Katie's cheeks and she bit her lip, ducking her head. "Thanks, Wood. It was really… nice of you, if not smart."

"Oh, go on," Angelina said with a shove to Katie's back. "Move a bit closer so the boy can actually hear your mumblings."

"And make it nice," Alicia said with a little smile.

George gestured to the spot on the bed where he'd been sitting. "Be his guest."

"I've just remembered!" Harry suddenly exclaimed. "We all need to go polish the trophy… like, now." He raised his eyebrows meaningfully and everyone nodded wisely, trailing after him out the door.

"Wha –" Katie began, looking after them.

"No, no, Katie, you stay here," Angelina assured her, "You can polish later."

"With Oliver," Fred and George snickered quietly behind their hands so Katie and Oliver couldn't hear.

The room was suddenly very quiet and Katie avoided eye contact with Oliver and Oliver avoided eye contact with Katie. Sometime between him fainting and waking up, a storm had rolled in and the rain spattered against the windows, loud in the silence.

"Bunch of little buggers, aren't they?" he finally ventured after several moments of awkward silence. "Apparently we don't have much to say to each other."

"Oliver," Katie said, startling him into eye contact. "I did want to thank you, you know. That was very gentlemanly of you. Rather heroic, like George said."

Oliver blushed. "Well, really, Pomfrey's patched me up. Nothing to worry about. Good job channelling anger into the game, as well...whatever you were angry about."

Intellectually, Katie recognized that as the perfect opportunity to let him know she wanted him and was frustrated that she seemed incapable of telling him so and _that _was what she'd channelled into the game. But, since she _was _incapable of telling him so, she said, "Yup okay then" and bolted, slipping a little on the slick linoleum but recovering admirably.

Her abrupt departure felt like a slap in the face to Oliver. Clearly she was uninterested in spending any more time than necessary with him. In fact, she probably knew that he had been gearing up to tell her he liked her (since, in his experience, girls seemed to have that kind of sixth sense that detects impending, awkward declarations of love). She was probably helping him save face by leaving, which was really even more embarrassing. He covered his face with his hands and groaned.

"Oliver?"

He dropped his hands to see Leah standing kind of uncertainly at the foot of his cot.

"Oh," he said. "Hey."

"I saw what happened out on the pitch. You were incredible! I heard you played the whole game with a broken rib." She sat on the edge of his bed, resting a hand on his knee. He jerked upright.

"Oh. Yeah. Not the whole game, it's not really a big deal."

She gave him a smile and looked out from under her lashes. "That's not what everyone else is saying. You're pretty much the hero of Gryffindor. And heroes should be rewarded." She leaned in suddenly and pressed her soft berry lips against his.

Oliver bucked, shoving her hand off his leg and smacking his head on the headboard. "Actually, wait, actually, don't do that." He threw the covers off, despite still being sore, and grabbed a pair of his jeans and a jumper that someone had left folded on the bedside chair. He pulled the jeans on, ripped off the flimsy Infirmary gown, and tugged the jumper on over his head. He bolted for the door, looking over his shoulder to call, "I'm sorry, this is terribly rude, but I don't think I like you and I have to go find someone" before hurtling out the door.

---

This was what he had waited for: graduation, winning the final match of his Hogwarts career. For so long, he had waited. And now it was gone, in the mere space of an hour, it was gone. The anticipation and planning was no longer his, the worry and anxiety that had swamped his entire body with a cold sweat was gone. He wanted it back. Everything. Because, up until this moment, it hadn't really registered that he would be leaving. He wouldn't be coming back.

It was like Christmas. The beginning of December rolls around and a sudden festivity surrounds people. Children had that glow of anticipation in their eyes. Parents were happy and doting. Christmas morning comes and kids get their parents up at five thirty to open presents… and then it's done, over. Nothing until the next year. But Oliver realized he didn't have the next year. This was it. He thought he should've perhaps paid closer attention to his last year instead of putting so much energy into the _end_ of his last year.

He was mostly broken up over the fact that while _he_ was leaving, Katie Bell would not be leaving with him. He didn't know exactly when it had happened, or how, even, but he was definitely going to miss her. In fact, he couldn't stop thinking about her. He just didn't think he had enough room in his head for two obsessions, but Katie quickly seemed to be shoving Quidditch further and further from his mind. Having Leah approach him had really made that clear. And while he was sure Leah was a very nice girl, there was only one girl for him.

It finally made sense to him: Katie, crying in the hallway saying she didn't have much time left, and later mentioning that she'd never been kissed and that she would be seventeen in days. In fact, he realized with a jolt, _today. _Why hadn't she said anything? Why hadn't anyone else? He remembered her telling him once, proudly, that she had been born at five o' clock exactly. On the _dot,_ she'd said and poked him with the tip of her finger to emphasize. He glanced at the large clock hanging at the end of the hallway. Four fifty-five. He had five minutes. Five minutes to find her. In a huge place. He had no doubt he would be able to do it. He had to.

He set off in a run toward the common room, his footsteps clattering and echoing in the near empty hallways. He skidded to a stop in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady and wheezed out the password. She swung forward and he clambered through the entrance, scanning the room. His eyes fell on Angelina's dark head bent over a book.

"Angelina! Where's Katie?" he called. She looked up with a little frown, as if wondering why he was so worked up and also trying to remember where Katie might have been.

"I think she went for a walk."

"In this weather?" Oliver asked, already halfway back out the entrance hole. Angelina shrugged and raised her hands as if to say _Crazy, but what can you do?_

He sped down the stairways and practically flew toward the huge double doors that marked the main entrance of Hogwarts, flinging them open and racing outside.

The rain was steadily growing harder, but even through the rain he could see a girl standing by the edge of the lake.

"_Katie!" _he bellowed, running toward her. He had two minutes and he refused to be late. The girl turned and looked at him, her head cocking to the side.

"Oliver?" she yelled back. He was almost there. He could make it. One minute and thirty seconds.

He nearly fell on the slippery grass and mud and began to fervently pray that he wouldn't fall and break his back before he got to her.

One minute.

He could see her face now and she looked confused and a little worried. Just a few more yards.

Forty-five seconds. His legs were positively burning and his chest was heaving so hard he was sure his heart was jump-roping. Combine time pressure, exercise, and anxiety over rejection and you get one weird reaction.

He came to a breathless stop before her and tore his watch off of his wrist, held it up for her to see, and said, "I forgot to give you something, Katie Bell."

"Your watch?"

"No, this." And he kissed her.

Just seconds later, the bells in the clock tower clanged and vibrated and rang out, signaling the arrival of five o' clock. On the _dot._

Oliver pulled away after a moment more, wanting to linger, but thinking he shouldn't. "Happy Birthday," he said.

Katie looked up at him, a slow grin lighting up her face. Oliver's eyes were almost black they were so dark, his thick lashes were wet with the rain and oddly enough, for the first time in her life, Katie Bell noticed he had precisely five freckles spread across his nose. Her heart was pounding, but she tried to appear calm.

"Is that all?" she said, still grinning up at him, her mouth lifting wryly.

"No, Katie Bell, that is not all." Oliver's chest was heaving and he blurted, "I really like you."

A bubble of happy laughter escaped Katie's lips and it must have been contagious because Oliver's face washed with relief and he laughed, too.

"Katie Bell, I am so serious, you better not laugh."

"I'm not laughing," she said with a cheeky grin and pulled his mouth to hers as the rain poured down around them, plastering their hair and clothes.

When they pulled away again, Oliver said, "By the way, I notice that I am not the only one who—how did you put it so long ago?—'sulks about the in the rain.'"

"I guess that means it was your turn to bring the umbrella this time," Katie said with a grin and an arched brow.

"I think you're right," Oliver agreed, and without hesitation, pulled his jumper off, holding it above their heads to protect them from the rain.

"Oh, well that's just—that's just showing off," Katie said but Oliver leaned in for another kiss, to which she was amenable.

---

_The End_


End file.
